


The Forgotten One

by Kurai Himitsu (Taskuhecate)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, POV First Person, Present Tense, This was before we knew much of anything about Shisui, XY Amount of Words LJ challenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2007-12-13
Updated: 2008-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-07 08:36:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14077056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taskuhecate/pseuds/Kurai%20Himitsu
Summary: A collection of drabbles and oneshots dedicated to Shisui, with a bit of Itachi thrown in for fun. Challenge for xyamountofwords LJ community.





	1. Rewards

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Okay. Idiot that I am, I've decided to take on another theme challenge—this time, the XY Amount of Words challenge. Fifty fics, and I've chosen to do Shisui (with Itachi thrown in for fun) though most—if not all—will be from Shisui's POV.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own _Naruto_ , and I'm not making any money off this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Theme/Prompt:** "Let the world turn without you tonight."
> 
>  **Additional Notes:** Yea, yea. More themes. They're kinda fun though. . .

He has changed. My eyes follow him as he moves across the training field, his movements so precise and fluid it is frightening. Never a misstep, never a falter, and I almost hate it. He has changed. I laugh a little, now, realizing that I have changed as well. There was a time when I had seen him as an annoyance, a little eight year old brat that tailed me through the streets and alleys and rooms until I would turn and scream at him. He never flinched when I screamed—indeed, he did not move an inch, not even a twitch. He still doesn't. Years separate us—scant years that mean nothing in the full scheme of things. I wonder. . . He speaks so little to me anymore, to anyone. Not even his brother. Odd, that is. I fear that something is not right. He worries me sometimes, and I know he knows this. However, whether he cares of my worry or not, I cannot tell. He broods, and I worry. That has been the unspoken arrangement between us for a while now, since he passed the Chuunin Exam. I suppose I should not worry—Itachi-kun is more than capable of managing his own life, not that he has any control, with thanks to his father. Fugaku-taichou. . . I disapprove of his treatment of his sons, but there is nothing I can do to my uncle. He is beyond my reach, and I fear . . . I fear that Itachi-kun may be as well, soon. It frightens me.

I am aware that Itachi-kun is far stronger than I shall ever be. I know it. He knows it. He trains relentlessly, and it, as well as his lack of speaking, worries me. I see him there, again, today. I know he is aware of my presence so there is no need to announce myself. He is in a mock battle with his father—and Fugaku-taichou seems to be losing, the way I see it. Something is burning in Itachi-kun's eyes, and I can tell that Fugaku-taichou does not like it. I'm not sure I do, either. In seconds, a moment of spontaneity on my part, I am between them, my kunai clashing against the katana Itachi-kun wields. I can see Fugaku-taichou's eyes widen in my peripheral but Itachi-kun only allows me a second of reprieve before he strikes again, attempting to kick my feet from under me. I know this technique well, having been the one to show it to him in the first place. It's a somewhat dirty move, but I had never seen a point to rules in battle. I flicker behind him, my kunai to his throat, which becomes a log as I feel metal at my back. I, in turn, use substitution with the log he had used—we stand facing off once more.

He glares at me, and I smile back—a usual thing. I put my kunai away, stepping towards him. "Very good Itachi-kun."

He does nothing more than narrow his eyes. I do not falter, but I am tense—he has yet to drop his stance and the sun is gleaming down the blade of his katana. Fugaku-taichou says nothing.

"How about we get some dango, eh? A reward for doing so well—to the both of us."

A tense moment more and he finally shifts, dropping the stance as he lowers his katana. Another moment passes and he sheaths it; I sigh a little. "Fine."

I know well that Fugaku-taichou is not happy with the proceedings—I see as much when I turn to bow to him. At this point, however, I don't care. "Well, we're off then, Taichou."

He grunts gruffly. "Fine. Have him back by tonight. He has a mission." He turns to leave as well, in the opposite direction.

I frown. This will not do. "Taichou," I call; he pauses, though he doesn't look back. "Taichou, forgive me, but I had planned to have Itachi-kun accompany me on guard duty—surely that would be an informative excursion for him?"

Fugaku-taichou says nothing for a moment.

"Please, Tou-san. I would rather like to join Shisui-san."

I blink in surprise and stare at Itachi-kun. That was the most he'd said in a while, and I was relieved to learn he had not lost his voice completely. I found I had missed the sound of it.

A bird crows somewhere and I suppose that Fugaku-taichou sees the futility of it, this ultimately petty argument; he agrees reluctantly and leaves us. Time passes in silence and soon we arrive at the small dango shop that Itachi so loved. He still does—I notice he increases his pace slightly as we near it and I can almost hear the childish laughter of who he once was echoing off the air and time. I smile sadly to myself. Fugaku-taichou and the Academy have certainly changed him. He finds us a seat; I sit across from him, my back to the street. We order and the waitress scampers away, twittering probably about the two "beautiful Uchiha." What a nuisance to be in this family, sometimes. . .

We eat in relative silence. Not entirely unusual, of course, but not necessarily welcome, either. The silence stretches and before I know it, we are done and not a single word has passed between us. I scowl at the stripped dango skewers in my frustration. Across from me, Itachi-kun is staring out at the passing crowd, his face utterly blank. It's how he is—no emotion—and somehow I find that sad. Perfect shinobi, imperfect human. Sometimes I wish he would show me a smile, even if it is fake. The day—or rather, afternoon—is cool, but not cold. I'm thankful—the cold is not kind to me and I wish to stay outside. I have a present for Itachi-kun, after all. I glance at him; his sharingan eyes are focused on me and I flash him a quick smile.

"C'mon—there's something I want to show you." I search his face for a moment for anything—a glint of curiosity, a flicker of mischievousness— _anything_. I find nothing.

He follows willingly, trailing behind me languidly, but I can tell that he is watching the clock inside his head; he is counting the minutes to his would-have-been mission. I know he feels that he should have gone on the mission, and I was shocked that he decided to come at all. Now I just had to keep him with me, for I feel that I will lose him entirely otherwise. I lead him to the gates and through them, past them, away from  _them_ —away from Konoha. His questioning gaze is boring a hole in between my shoulder blades, and really it's beginning to become irksome but I ignore as best I can. He says nothing as we walk through the forest, the twilight painting it dusty gold and velvet grey-black. I wonder if he even notices the beauty around him anymore or if Fugaku-taichou has beaten it out of him. I swallow at the thought and quicken my pace slightly.

We are nearly there when he finally speaks. "Shisui-san, what are we doing here? Do you not have guard duty to attend to?"

I can't help it; my laughter bubbles out of my throat and into the crisp night air, more carefree than I truly feel. "Itachi-kun, how long have you known me that you cannot tell when I am lying?"

His footsteps stop and I know he is angry with me—I can feel it in his gaze and in the air. I turn and smile over my shoulder. "C'mon Itachi-kun; a break will do you good." I take a few more steps, but he does not follow and I stop again, frowning this time. "Itachi-kun? Oh don't be like this. Forget the mission for once—come with me."

He glares but follows just as reluctantly as his father had given permission. Another five minutes or so and we arrive at my well-kept secret. It is a small river that runs through the forest, a small hill overlooking it and providing the prefect view of Konoha and the sky. Twilight is ending as we reach it, a blanket of blazing red and orange and black intermingling. It looks like fire behind the buildings. The grass is like silk as I flop down beside the bank, the river a silver snake that sparkles and glitters. Itachi-kun makes no move to join me as he stands at the edge of the forest. I sigh, heaving myself to my feet once more and trotting back to him, slowing to stop a few feet in front of him, my grin tired now.

"Itachi-kun," I mutter, scratching the back of my neck; I sigh again, shaking my head. "C'mon. Let the world turn without you tonight." He raises one thin eyebrow and I smile half-heartedly. Something has changed.

Finally, he shrugs and walks passed me to settle much more gracefully than I had on the green carpet. I watch him for a moment before following. For just a while, I fully intend to let my worries go. The world will keep turning, even if Itachi-kun and I aren't there, and I only wish he would realize that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Well. Tell me what you think—I really hope Shisui's personality is acceptable. . . Sadly, we may never know him in the manga and for some reason I always did like him, even if he was never shown. . . Now watch him turn out to be a villain. Rolls eyes That'd be my luck . . . Shrug Oh well. . . Anyway, please, _review!_


	2. A Lie for a Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Theme/Prompt:** Lost
> 
>  **Additional Notes:** "Chichiue" means "father," though is extremely polite and I don't believe is used much any more. Itachi does use it, however, in the manga; I know. I own that volume in the original Japanese. *Shrug*

"Damn branches!" I curse, forcing my through them and getting smacked in the face by the backlash for my trouble. What a bitch. Stupid kid. . . Why did it have to be  _me?_  Why couldn't Inabi go find him? Personally, I couldn't see how the kid had gotten lost in the first place—weren't Mikoto-oba-san and Fugaku-taichou always praising him as having all the marks of a future genius? Some genius, getting lost out here, and when there've been sightings recently of missing nin on the boarders, too. The woods are dark and annoyingly thick—and to think, I could've been back at my house enjoying a nice warm mug of cocoa, instead of out here with a small search party. Said search party only really consists of me and Fugaku-taichou—I don't know why it's only us, but I'm not going to question Taichou. He's a bit scary.

Anyway, these woods are infuriating and I can't seem to find hide nor hair of this brat. I swear I've been wandering for  _hours!_  Really, I don't know why I'm even bothering; I've never even met the kid before. I've seen him, of course, a few times. But only a few. Fugaku-taichou keeps the kid under wraps, mostly. Something about him being the "future of the clan" or something like that. I don't really know; I'm kinda on the fringes of things like that. I never pay attention to them. I'm not even sure I want to be a shinobi sometimes. It just seems like more trouble than it's worth. But hey, I'm an Uchiha, so it was a given that I'd end up a ninja. Oh well. You win some, you lose some. Even if I don't really want to be a ninja, I'm a genin now and I'll do my best—never do anything halfway, Otou-san says. Another branch hits me in the face and I curse again, tripping over it's sibling in the dirt and find myself tumbling down a hillside. And damn, it's rocky hill. . .

Otou-san always says I'm lucky, and I guess I am because I get up and there's hardly a scratch on me, even though I'm covered in dirt now. I shrug off the slight aches and brush myself off even if it doesn't do any good—I'm  _covered_  in mud. I sigh and start taking stock of the steep hill and groan. It's so  _steep_  and  _muddy_. There's no way I'll be able to get back up from where I am. I figure I'll just follow the hill's base until I either find somewhere where it isn't as steep, or I find a way around it. I'm about to do just that when something stops me.

"You fell down it too, Shisui-san?"

I blink and look over to see none other than Uchiha Itachi, sitting on a fallen log a few feet away from me. "You!" I hiss, pointing an accusatory finger at him—who cares if he's only eight? "You little brat! Where have you been?" He just stares at me. " _Well?_ "

"Here."

I feel like screaming, but I know that won't get me anywhere. "But _why_  are you out in the woods?" I ask instead; it's a struggle to keep my voice calm-sounding. He looks down, fidgeting with his sleeves, twisting them and tugging at them. His shoulders jerk up then down once, quickly, and I roll my eyes. "Fine, whatever. I don't care. Let's get you home." His eyes snap back to mine and he seems hesitant, but only for a minute and then it's gone. I turn my attention back to the muddy slope. It hasn't changed during my discovery of the brat so I stick with the same plan as before. I don't even bother to turn around to see if Itachi's following me—I can tell he is, somehow. I can also tell we're not really alone anymore.

I frown. "Taichou? Taichou! I found him! I found Itachi-kun!" Then I feel Itachi press against my leg, his little hands gripping my pants; I barely have time to glance down before I quickly find out that the presence I had felt isn't Fugaku-taichou. A kunai grazes right my shoulder as it whistles past—thank God my shinobi training is pretty much ingrained now. I roll to the left, grabbing the little brat as I do. We end up in a thorn bush, but better a thorn bush than a hail of kunai, I figure. I activate my sharingan and lay low. I can feel Itachi trembling next to me and somehow I know it's not from fear—but I don't have time to worry about him as our attacker steps out of the shadows a few feet away, scowling. I don't recognize him at all, and I can't really make out his hitai-ate in the dim light from the setting sun—but the light glints off the deep scratch through whatever symbol is engraved on it.  _Dammit!_  The brat just  _had_  to get lost near a missing nin.

"Okay Shisui," I mutter. "Stay positive." I fumble for my kunai—he can't see me right now, so I've got a chance. I take careful aim—my hand's shaking a bit but I ignore it—and throw straight at the bastard's head.

And miss.

It whizzes a little less than an inch away from his nose and his head instantly snaps in my direction. Shit, we are  _so_  dead! So much for staying positive. The nin pulls a kunai from his holster and I do the same, pulling myself up so I'm crouching—this should be interesting. I spring out, my kunai flashing in the dying light and meeting the missing nin's. I hold him in deadlock for a moment, both of us gauging the other's strength. I see his free hand move, and I kick quickly, my leg flashing out and my body twisting to connect my foot with his back. I hear a sharp hiss and jump back as the intruder falls, rolling with the blow, and pushing himself to his feet. My gaze flicks to where I had left Itachi, only to see the missing nin bearing down on the kid. Goddamn Shunshin no jutsu! I can't think for a minute and I'm in shock as I see the brat's eyes widen; I slam my eyes shut, bracing myself for the inevitable scream and sound of kunai tearing flesh. I hear nothing but a curse. My eyes open again and I see Itachi dodging the blows, somehow. Then I catch a flash of crimson and I understand.  _Sharingan._

He won't last long, though. I can see that. He's good, but he's just gotten his sharingan and this nin has been at this longer and obviously doesn't mind playing dirty, if he's attacking a kid. I surge toward them, just as Itachi attacks, only to miss ever so slightly and leave himself wide open. Shit! I add chakra to my run and flicker between them, blocking the kunai with my hand guards—and _damn,_  it hurts! The bastard is pressing all his weight into it, trying to break my guard and I know I can't hold him forever. Itachi's presence hasn't moved an inch behind me and I snarl.

"Move, brat!"

I don't have to tell him twice, thankfully. The moment he's out of the way, I let my body drop, limp, only to kick the man's feet from under him, falling on top of him, plunging my kunai into his chest. I ignore his scream as best I can, my eyes closed. A second later and I've scrambled a safe distance away, to where Itachi is staring at the dead man, eyes still bloody with the newly awakened sharingan. I'm panting, a little torn up from the thorn bush, and my hands are bleeding from the man's kunai but I'm lucky once more and otherwise unhurt. My gaze follows Itachi's; the man is undoubtedly dead, my kunai still sticking out of his chest, buried to the hilt. I feel a bit queasy at the sight but push it to the side. I sigh, shaking myself.

"You okay, brat?" His eyes never leave the dead man's as he nods. I run a hand through my unruly black hair. "I . . . guess we should get you back to the estate. He might not be alone out here." I turn and begin to make my way around the hill; I stop though, when I notice Itachi still hasn't moved. "Brat?"

"I wanted to make Chichiue proud." I frown, confused by his words; he looks away from the body, away from me, at the forest floor which is nearly black now with the sun almost gone entirely. "You asked why I was out here—I heard there was a missing nin . . . and I just wanted to make him proud."

My confusion collapses into a scowl and I don't know whether I want to scream and pull out my hair or smile at the simple naivety in his plan. I settle for annoyed fondness and shake my head. "Well, you  _did_  help. . ." He looks up at me and I offer him a small smile. After all, he's only eight, and he looks better with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I know, I know. Itachi, trembling? My explanation is that is that it wasn't from fear but from anticipation, but I'm not sure that really was conveyed well enough. . . Anyway, I hope you liked it. Please, _review!_


	3. Undeserving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Theme/Prompt:** Tea (the taste)
> 
>  **Additional Notes:** This one's in 3rd person—oh my god! Hahaha. The first of this series to be so. I really don't have anything to add, except maybe that I'm trying out different styles. *Shrug*

It has been seven years since he's last seen these walls. Seven years since Uchiha Itachi has seen the river—Nakano river. His companion, one Hoshigaki Kisame, notices idly as they pass that Itachi keeps his eyes carefully averted, head held slightly lower than usual. He does not comment, but wonders. As it is, Itachi neither would have answered nor heard any inquiries, his mind too lost in that afternoon, seven years ago. It was not as if he had _wanted_  to kill Shisui. It had only been necessary and he was sure that Shisui had understood that, for the most part.  _For the most part._  Doubt sometimes finds him in the dark and shadows, but those times were rare, few and far between. Still, he feels that Shisui had not deserved his fate—he was a far better man than Itachi had ever known.

They reach the town quickly, easily. The security is lax after Orochimaru's attack and Itachi feels that it is the perfect time to strike. It is not the only reason however. He knows that, after the attack, it will look different—not so much like the home he left behind—and so be less painful, in theory. They pause, looking out at the injured village and Kisame grins. He asks, as an afterthought to plans already made, if Itachi still misses his home-village. The lie slips easily from Itachi's practiced lips.

" _No. . . Not at all. . ."_

They walk the streets, this part of the village somewhat less damaged than the others. Kisame suggests a rest—a small shop that would serve the purpose well enough, nothing more than a plain dango shop. Itachi says nothing past a short agreement. He says nothing of the horrible feeling of nostalgia and the faint pangs of guilt as he takes his old seat facing the street. The waitress takes their orders and scampers away—the waitress is different, true enough, but her reaction to the Uchiha is the same as the other's, all those years before. She returns shortly with their tea and a plate of dango. He does not touch the dango. For once, he feels as though he doesn't deserve a reward. Not here, not in this place. The dango is left untouched, and the tea tastes bitter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Well. That was extremely short. *Shrug* Well, I hope you liked it. . . Review?


	4. Playing the Fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Theme/Prompt:** "Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives." - Oscar Wilde
> 
>  **Additional Notes:** Okay. . . I have nothing against the Hyuuga. Sure, they're not my favorite characters, but really, I have nothing against them. . .

It hurts. It all hurts.  _Shit_. I have no idea what possessed me to do that. . . To stand up for the brat. Sure, we've been friends for nearly two years now, but I'm not quite sure it's worth getting completely  _trashed_  over. At least, not like this. Itachi may be a genius, but those Hyuuga certainly know how to make someone hurt. I sigh and turn my head to the window, the downy pillow soft against my warm cheek. The room is all white—typical hospital—and boring. Nothing but a dresser and a long bedside table, a few scattered get-well gifts on it, cleverly spaced out so it seemed there were more than there actually were. I sneered to myself, finding it amusing that they thought it would fool me. Every single gift was superficial, all for face, save the one from my father. But beyond all that, there was nothing from the one person I wanted anything from. I think that's what hurts the most, actually. More than my closed chakra passages from the Hyuuga's damn Gentle Fist, more than the bruises and the defeat. It hurts that the brat hasn't even acknowledged what I did for him. I know he was told of it—my father told me of the announcement and Itachi's reaction. "Not even a twitch," he said. I believe him.

Knowing Itachi as well as I do, I should have known better. Words never really matter to Itachi—he is defined by action, or lack thereof—not words. Words hardly affect him, I know. I am not so fortunate. When I heard the Hyuuga Jounin talking trash about Itachi it struck a chord in me and my rationality took a temporary leave of absence. I still can't believe I was so damn foolish. I sigh and wait for the nurse to come and change my bandages—she's the only company I can truly expect and rely on. It seems like hours, and all I want is a friendly face (or perhaps one that is merely given the title of 'friend'). But she's not alone today, the nurse; my father is with her. He smiles at me, his grin thin and half imagined on my part. It's all an act, and I can tell just as easily as anyone else. He sits beside me, grinning his weak grin, waiting patiently until the nurse has finished and leaves. I know he won't speak until we are alone—my father is a quiet man, even if he is good natured. I'm right—he doesn't even open his mouth until the door's shut behind her.

"Hello, son." His grin melts to little more than a smile. I don't say anything, but I know he understands the question I simply can't ask; he sighs. "He hasn't said anything. I'm sorry."

I had known the answer long before my father had come—I had known it on the second day stuck in this hellhole—but it didn't make it hurt any less. I swallow the hurt back; I won't allow any of it to show on my face. "It's okay," I say, but my voice is cracked and fragile, hardly a breath, and I know he sees through the act.

I can see the sadness in my father's eyes. "Shisui, you need to stop playing the fool for that boy. Uchiha Itachi isn't ever going to return anything—he can only take, and I'm afraid that one day, he'll take all of you."

I smile. It's just like my father to say such things. I don't begrudge him it—after all, the clan has never exactly been kind to him after my mother's passing, and Itachi is everything the clan stands for in his eyes. "You worry too much." He doesn't seem eased, but I say nothing else, turning instead to the little window. I may be playing the fool for Itachi, but I'll continue to do so, even if he  _does_  take all of me. After all, every king needs a jester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** Well, that's that. Four down and still a good chunk to go. Tell me what you think!


End file.
